Why? Why? Why?
by StrangerX
Summary: Jason Todd has some questions about the world of heroes and villains he's stuck in. It's a twisted world where nothing makes sense and people can die. He should know. He has already died once. Rated T for Jason's bad language.


**Why? Why? Why?**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill, folks. I do not and never will own Red Hood, Robin, Batman, Superman, or any other canon characters affiliated with DC Comics. I make no money off of this (sadly), and all rights are reserved to DC.**

**AN: Quick comment. Hello, I'm StrangerX, but you can call me River. I will do commissions for a whole bunch of fandoms, so PM me if you have any ideas. Enjoy the story!**

Hey, ladies and germs, my name is Jason Todd; the second kid to bear the title of Robin, the Boy Wonder.

I wouldn't be surprised or particularly offended if you haven't heard of me. I'm the bad Robin, the dead Robin, and the forgotten Robin. I'm the one who never could and never will live up to the standards. I'll never be their Golden Boy, or their genius detective. Hell, I'm not Bruce's kid either (God, I hope not). No, I'm not too well remembered for the spandex days. Now people know me, and fear me, as that shady character, Red Hood. But for once, I'm not actually here to rub that in people's faces.

I just came here to point a few things out.

For instance, why is the Joker still alive?

No, this has gone way beyond revenge for my murder- though that would be nice. It's common sense at this point, damn it all. I know that Bruce and the rest of his underlings live under that golden rule of "no killing", but come on! Even so, shouldn't the sum of his crimes deem him too dangerous to be kept alive at this point? As in, "you should shoot that bastard between the eyes upon sight, then burn the body with fifty witnesses!"

They kept slamming him back in Arkham as if they expect that he'll remain there for more than a few weeks (that dump has rotating doors), and that the morons running the place could actually make any difference. I can tell you from experience that those incompetent fools have positively no clue what they're doing.

And so, the Joker and every other twisted freak in Gotham walk straight back out, kill a few more innocent people, and they throw them back to repeat the process? What does it all accomplish?

It thins the population, if you ask me.

And then there's the matter of his sidekicks these days. Why does he still have them? It's a jinx to even put on the damn costume. You can kiss your parents goodbye if they're not dead already.

Like that Tim kid, he came into the job normal as can be, discounting the fact that the frigging little bookworm had figured out the secret identities of half the Justice League when he was nine. And now look at him; he's just as fucked up as I am, if not even more.

He just does a better job of hiding it than most, but I can still see that look in his eye. No matter how much he denies it to his friends, the look will never leave him. That dark, haunted look that I see when I look in the mirror. It's that look that comes out when you've not only seen the dark side of the world, but it's stalked you down a filthy alley way at night, mugged you, raped you and now follows you wherever you go, taunting you. The job leaves more scars than just the physical, that's for sure.

Next off on my list of stupid questions- what is it with the underwear outside of the pants? Seriously, Batman, Superman, Aquaman- they all do it! What kind of fashion statement is that?

It serves no purpose. Trust me, I know well. I spent years with one of the most famous underwear outside the pants guys there is, I know the ins and outs of costumes, and I know that there is no reason for it. It just looks stupid. I mean, isn't it weird enough we run around in spandex and Kevlar jumpsuits in primary colors?

Speaking of which, why doesn't everyone wear more sensible colors, especially nighttime vigilantes like the dynamic duo. We want to be mysterious, enigmatic, you know. We aim to blend into the darkness, yadda, yadda, yadda. Wearing fucking neon orange isn't exactly conducive to that end.

If you're invincible, invulnerable, and you can get away prancing through the city like a pimped out target, then good for you, but otherwise- you're a fucking moron.

That's exactly why my get-up is a simple leather jacket and nondescript gray Kevlar, though I admit the hood is a bit ostentatious.

Okay, another thing that's occurred to me a few times is; what the hell is up with the Bat prefixes? I mean- Bat Cave, Bat Plane, Bat Sub, Bat Computer, Bat Suit? It goes on and on and on and on. If you don't think about it, it's doesn't really matter, but when you actually do think about it's… it's, well, it's quite honestly stupid. Just sit and say it out loud a few times and the you'll get what I mean. We've all just gotten used to it.

Batman. Superman. Green Arrow. For Christ sake, there's Elongated Man. Who the fuck comes up with these names? Hawkgirl? Powergirl? Do they just sit around, throw a dart at a dictionary and stick -man, -woman, or -girl on the end of whatever they hit?  
Suppose it's a bit hypocritical, coming from someone whose code name is about as unimaginative as you can get. Red Hood. Oh, gee, I wonder why he's called that? Maybe it's because he runs around the city with a piece of red metal on his fucking head. I know. I was in a hurry and I didn't have the time to assemble a creative committee.

One reason, I think, is because we're all god damn insane. Not insane like the Joker or the Trickster, but a different, special kind of insane. We're a stable insanity. An insanity that compels us to do what we do every day. Some of us are worse off than others. Like Batman and the Question. They're more at the chaotic end of the spectrum. They channel their insanity into darkness and vengeance and paranoia. Then there's the Flash and Superman. They hide it all behind smiles and laughter and nobility to keep out the nightmares. They're all masters of denial.

That's why we all deflect, put on this second mask of smiles and bright colors and truth and justice and all of that bullshit. It's so we can pretend we're good guys and that the world can actually be saved.

Everything in this stupid world of mine is idiotic and overrated. What's the fucking point of it all? Why do I bother? Why don't I just stuff my mask under my mattress and pretend I had never been involved and try to build a happy, safe life for myself? Why, why, why? Don't deny it, you've wondered too.

I do this because I have no choice. When you enter this world, you can never leave it ever again. It follows you until you die, and sometimes even longer. If I put my mask, my guard down for even a second, shit falls apart at the seams. Besides, if I stuffed my mask under my mattress, there'd be a huge fucking uncomfortable lump.

All you can do is keep running or try to fight back.

You know what else? You never want to stop, either. It's addictive. The thrill, the adrenaline, oh God, the power. You can't possibly understand it unless you have tasted it yourself. You become part of this unstoppable force and you're so much better than the stupid mundane apes walking down below you, stuck on the filthy ground. In one hand you cling to the power of life like a rope to a drowning man, in the other, you grasp the hand of death like an old friend.

So all those questions, even the pointless and ridiculous ones, essentially boil down to this- Do you want this inescapable power? Do you want to run and fight and never stop running or fighting ever again?

I don't. Not anymore. But I started running when I was twelve years old and I've only stopped once for death, but not even that would give me peace.  
Not even death.


End file.
